


Entwined

by Leotto



Category: Long Gone Days (Video Game)
Genre: Adair Character Study, Canon Related, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, M/M, Relationship Study, canon-divergence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:54:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25916911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leotto/pseuds/Leotto
Summary: “I don’t know what I want to do... But anything but this.”His eyes lost the light inside them. His hands shook and his body slumped over where he sat on the edge of the bed. Adair hadn’t known him for long, but he didn’t have to know the man to know that he was breaking right before his eyes.
Relationships: Adair & Rourke (Long Gone Days), Adair/Rourke (Long Gone Days)
Kudos: 19





	Entwined

**Author's Note:**

> This story is canon-divergent. There are familiar events from the game, but they may not happen in the same order of occurrence or have same consequences.

“I don’t know what I want to do... But anything but this.”

His eyes lost the light inside them. His hands shook and his body slumped over where he sat on the edge of the bed.

Adair hadn’t known him for long, but he didn’t have to know the man to know that he was breaking right before his eyes. It was part of his job to assess men during crises and deem them battleworthy after all. He knew no amount of his weak consolation or mild inquiries were going to get through to him. Instead, he did what he could professionally. He fetched him some water to drink, and told him to lie down again. Rourke took neither.

“I have to get away, even if that means getting executed.”

Adair felt himself frown at the ridiculous notion he voiced. This one was willing to forsake his brothers, sisters and Father General for the death of nameless strangers, even at the cost of his own life. It greatly puzzled him to hear someone with a weak resolve who wants to abandon his home and family speak with such determined finality, only a few seconds after claiming that he didn’t know what to do. He was getting mental whiplash from trying to reconcile the two.

However, it was not his job to figure out how their mind worked inside those thick skulls. It was his job to fix them up enough to return them to their duty. Besides, he couldn’t scold the man who looked downright shook and depressed about having done his job. So he did the next best thing he could. He offered to take him to the hospital where he could take some time off, and decide against that ridiculous notion of his. It would be better off that way for him and the entire team, for the success of this mission. Whatever happened to Rourke afterwards was not his problem. 

“Come on. Let’s go.”

He looked back at the troublemaker with his hand on the doorknob. He urged him to move along as he walked out the door. As soon as his foot hit the pavement, he was suddenly over taken with the sensation of tumbling down a rocky cliff. He staggered and reached out a hand to balance himself, and Rourke took the hand to steady him.

Adair gasped. He felt like he should scream as the sudden weightlessness took the breath out of his lungs. He clawed helplessly at the arms that were holding him up, as a premonition slammed into him like a landslide. When he looked up from where he had taken a knee, he could see Rourke’s concerned and apologetic face.

He could read his lips, though he felt dazed and his ears muffled.

Sorry.

Adair.

============

“Adair?”

It was only a light touch to his shoulder, but he jostled awake like he was being electrocuted during a new weapons trial. He huffed and sat back on the couch, trying to right his glasses so he could focus on the blurry form in front of him.

“Adair, are you alright?”

The blur emerged from his hazy gaze into something recognizable. It was Rourke’s concerned face only a foot away from him.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Guess I dozed off a little.”

His voice croaked a little from disuse, and he cleared his throat. It would help you relax a little, Ivan said. He didn’t realize drinking alcohol would knock him out like this. He was not touching that disgusting drink ever again; he thought with a frown as he tried to cope with the unpleasant aftertaste in his mouth. His thoughts returned to Rourke as the redhead settled down next to him.

“It’s not surprising. We didn’t get much rest for the past few days… uh, getting lost and all.”

Rourke’s attempt to inconspicuously stick to their cover story was commendable, but stuck out like a sore thumb. There clearly was a reason why he was assigned as a sniper, not a spy. Adair stretched his arms and legs and looked around the small sitting room. He glimpsed the empty beer bottles and bowl of chips on the kitchen table, but Lynn and Ivan were nowhere in sight. They were probably in their own rooms resting. Frankly, it surprised him that the people on the surface were so quick to take the strangers into their homes and show them hospitality. It was nothing like what the Core had taught them. Maybe Lynn and Ivan were the aberrant to the norm.

Adair wasn’t going to travel down that particular analysis further at this time. He was lucky enough to have a roof over his head and something to eat and drink. However, sitting here like this in a domestic bliss he had never known before, made him very nervous and antsy. He even fell asleep in this place without checking the parameters. Either he was losing it or taking the cover of a civilian very seriously. But he wasn’t a civilian, nor were they on a mission. There was a lot more happening right now than either of them could grasp and Adair just needed a moment to process it. This silence and the awkward cover won’t do. He turned to look at Rourke and they locked eyes. He looked like he had a lot on his mind as well.

“You know, Rourke-”

“Hey, Adair-”

They both started at the same time, then stopped, only to repeat the process a few more times until Adair raised a hand to stop them.

“Can we just- talk about this for a second?” He waved his hand between them and around them when he said ‘this’, as he found it difficult to come up with a word that would surmise their situation neatly. Nothing was neat about their situation, after all.

Rourke looked like it was what he was bracing himself for and gave him the floor.

“Just, what are we doing here? Getting even more lost in this town’s problems isn’t what we should be doing right now.”

He sounded more disgruntled than he meant to be. The combination of the odd dream he just had and the gruff voice from just waking up weren’t helping his case. He could see Rourke bristle at the comment and Adair knew what he was going to say before he opened his mouth.

“I know. But I can’t just leave them like this. We- I caused this…” There he went with his guilty conscience and self-blame. He could barely hold Adair’s eyes as he spoke.

“I’m not trying to blame you right now. I just want to know what you hope to achieve, so we can plan accordingly.” He spoke unconvincingly. It was a lie that a small part of him didn’t blame Rourke for where they were right now, but emotional resolution always took a backseat to practical solutions.

“Just tell me how long you plan on lingering in this town. A few more hours? A day? You know we can’t stay here longer than that.” He couldn’t help the little hints of frustrations peppering his words, as he searched for a straight answer out of this hesitant, stubborn and selfless fool.

“I want to do whatever I can to help these people, and get everyone on that ferry before the army gets here.” Rourke’s eyes finally found him and Adair could read the conviction at the bottom of those wavering and searching gazes.

“...Alright.” His answer came half a beat too late and even Rourke caught on. Instead of turning away and leaving him alone after getting the answer he wanted, the foolish dreamer lingered.

“You don’t have to stay if I’m holding you back.”

“...” 

He couldn’t believe his ears. This was not what he expected Rourke to say despite his reluctance about staying in this town. He didn’t end up all the way out here, just to look out for his self interest. Despite every sense in his body telling him to leave, away from the threat of Core’s soldiers, he didn’t want to leave Rourke behind. Regardless of how this situation was not a mess of his own making, he chose to stay. He thought they could get by somehow, as long as they were together. Because that's what brothers do. Apparently that wasn’t how Rourke saw him, it seemed.

Harsh words wanted to escape the tight cage in his throat but he swallowed them until they tumbled down deep. The unspoken words piled on his chest with their cold weight and sharp edges; and all he could do was to press his lips shut until he tasted blood in his mouth. He didn’t speak; he didn’t breath. His fists were curled tightly on both his knees.

“...Adair?” Sensing he must have said something, Rourke called for his attention. Adair had no interest in sticking around long enough to enlighten this boy. 

“Adair, wait!” 

He heard, but he didn’t. He slipped away from Rourke and headed out the door before anyone could stop him.

============

“You’ll come back with me if you know what’s good for you.”

He really didn’t think more convincing would be needed after a drone shot at them for trying to leave the parameter, but apparently it needed more than a few coaxing words to get Rourke’s feet to move again. He had to grab him by the hand and practically dragged him back into the forest; otherwise this man wouldn’t have moved with his own volition until the nightfall.

Adair was determined to drag his deadweight all the way back to the base camp. There was no way he was going to let this guy desert under his watch. It frustrated him that he was still taking care of this crybaby, while he wasn’t given an ounce of concern towards the kind of trouble he had had to go through for Rourke.

On the other hand, he could not abandon a fellow soldier to his own devices when he obviously expressed suicidal thoughts under duress. He wanted Rourke to get better, from both a professional and a moral standpoint. That was why he took it upon himself to take the distressed man to the nearby hospital in the first place, and the cruel fate decided to reward his good deed with… this.

The drone had recognized who they were, yet it still shot at them. It made him wonder if there was a communication error between his report to the sergeant and their security system, or a glitch in this particular model. Otherwise, things just did not add up. His mind started to piece one probable outcome after the other that led to the worst possible scenario, which frankly, scared the hell out of him. Shaking his head to clear the disconcerting thoughts, he focused on getting them back to the base. Once they had a chance to explain themselves, everything would be back to the way it was.

He was more than a little relieved to see a squad searching for them. Surely, it meant they came to escort them back to the camp, for the trouble they had with the drone. He let go of Rourke’s hand and ran forward, trying to get their attention from the top of the cliff. Before he could call out to them, he was held back by Rourke putting a hand over his mouth and pulling him back into the underbrush.

“What do you think you are doing?”

Rourke whispered, as if he was afraid that they’d be heard. He was confused as to why the sniper was acting like this. He was letting his paranoia take control of his actions. Adair struggled against the grip until he was told to look again.

The squad was armed to the teeth to be a simple search party. They were walking in a formation that meant they were going to face hostility with extreme force. Small doubts grew in his mind, which he tried his best to suppress. However it did not take long before his fears were confirmed, in the form of voices heard from beneath the cliff.

“...why did they have to make such a mess of a simple mission?” One muttered as they walked into Rourke and Adair’s hearing range.

“That’s what you get for letting a rookie take over for a Raven Squad.” Adair searched his patient’s expression for a clue. All he saw was the same downtrodden look he was wearing since he met him again at the temporary med station.

“What about the medic though? Adair, was it? I heard the Lieutenant had his eyes on him.” He tensed at the mention of his name. They knew exactly who they were going after, and they knew about him.

“Then he’s a fool for ruining his career for one deserter.” He wanted to jump up and tell them that he was not a deserter, that they should listen to his story and that this was all just a big misunderstanding. He could feel Rourke’s arms around his middle tighten, as if he could read his mind.

“Enough talk. We are on a mission. Remember, they both betrayed Father General and the Core. The orders are to shoot on sight. Don’t let them talk their poison into you too.” After the sound of their footsteps disappeared into the forest, all he could hear was his own heart thrumming against the limbs holding him in place. 

His mind was reeling. This wasn’t right. There had to be a way for him to clear his name. This was supposed to be a simple track across the forest to escort a patient to a hospital. He couldn’t believe what he had done was so wrong that he was now branded a traitor. He should have never tried to help Rourke. Then his life would have been so much easier. They were going to shoot them on sight. Shoot him, their medic, on sight. They, who had been his teammates, friends and family for his entire life, were trying to kill him for the crimes he did not commit. Things like this weren't supposed to happen to people like him. He was a normal, rule abiding member of the Core. There had got to be someone he could talk to, and right the wrong. If only he could get back to the sergeant who he had originally gotten his permission from...

Then there was a hand on his shoulder and Adair flinched. He was left curled up on the floor, murmuring to himself about all the thoughts that were plaguing him. He wasn’t sure how much of it was happening in his head and how much Rourke had heard. The involuntary companion was wearing an expression even more troubled than before.

“Adair, we have to go.”

But this couldn’t be his reality. He resisted Rourke’s hand and shook off his grip. “This has got to be a misunderstanding, if only I can talk to them--” His voice sounded feeble even to his own ears.

“You heard them, Adair. They will kill you. If they are anything like what they were taught to be - anything like what we used to be - they will do it.”

Adair knew Rourke was right. He knew he had already crossed the line he never meant to cross. But--

“I can’t just abandon my entire life at the drop of a hat! I’m not like you! I can still follow orders. They’ll listen to me. I’m their medic! There are sergeants and lieutenants who had their eyes on me for the next promotion-”

“Adair, listen to yourself…” Rourke held him by the shoulders so he couldn’t run towards the search party. “We have no choice. We gotta go now.” He slapped the hands away for what he couldn’t remember how many times, and screamed.

“No, I HAD a choice. You took it away from me! If it wasn’t for you… I…”

“I’m sorry…” Rourke had the galls to look like he was the one stabbed by Adair’s words. It was him who wanted to cry.

“Stop it! I don’t want to hear it.”

He picked a direction and ran. It wasn’t towards the basecamp, and it wasn’t towards the heavily armed search party. Logical side of him kept trying to whisper that Rourke was right, but he didn’t feel very logical right now. He didn’t bother to check if the red haired sniper was following him; he just ran and ran until he came to a small river running through the forest.

When he saw his reflection in the water, his legs gave out from underneath. The blond young man laying on all fours looking back at him was frightened and lost. Devastated and misunderstood. Heartbroken in disbelief… and despite all that, he saw within his own eyes what his mind was refusing to see. He could feel his frustration stinging the corner of his eyes. Green reflections rippled as he leaned over the water.

It was over. He had to run, if he wanted to survive.

============

The old swing he was sitting on made rusty noise as he pushed himself back and forth lightly. The memories of what had happened were mixed with what could have been, might have been and should have been, threw his mind into one wild ride. It felt like those events happened months ago instead of days.

He didn’t say anything of the sort to Rourke, but wished he had. He had agreed with the deserter and ran with him. There was no place for his insecurities and doubts in the middle of the crisis. Only survival mattered, and there was no going back. He agreed that what they were doing was the right thing. It didn’t stop him from feeling the tinge of resentment for not having a choice in the matter, though.

Kaliningrad was growing emptier by the moment. This part in the east end already felt like a ghost town. No one was here with him. No one was coming after him. He felt a pang like he’d never felt before. The Core might not have been the friendliest place, but he had never felt alone when he was there. He had mentors, leaders, colleagues and comrades. He was part of a unit and had a job to do. He was important, and he was good at it. Now, all the things he worked for had burned to ashes in a matter of moment and he was left with dirty hands with nothing to hold onto, but one broken rope.

Rourke.

He was the cause of all his troubles. Now he was the only one who was keeping him on his feet. He couldn’t tell him this, though. The man was finding it hard enough to keep putting one foot in front of the other due to his guilt over the revelation of what he had done. If he told him that he resented him to any degree, he might just give up. That would be a shame.

He knew it wasn’t fair to keep holding the turn of events against the sniper. It really was out of his control. None of Rourke's actions thereafter was done out of malice towards him. He was just caught in the middle of an unfortunate situation. Rourke did what he needed to do to survive, and now he must do the same.

He could find Rourke and take him out of this town. If he wouldn’t listen, then he would drag him out of here, screaming and kicking. It was just him and Rourke against the world now. They needed to live, so they could figure out what to do with it.

His head cleared and mind made up, Adair stood from the rundown playground and looked up at the sky. The sun was melting and soaked the clear blue with bloody red. He was really growing to hate the sun. He adjusted the bag on his shoulder properly and walked towards Ivan’s home. He was thinking about what to say to Rourke and the others for having run out on them like that. Maybe they thought he had already left town and stopped worrying about him--

He stopped dead in his tracks, in front of Ivan’s home. He thought this was where Ivan’s home was, looking at a building completely engulfed in flames. He stood still and stared at the raging fire licking the walls, where he felt safe only a few hours ago.

Once he registered the situation, his training kicked in and he started to assess the area for survivors. He saw none. He also saw no bodies either. He could not go inside. The flames were bursting out of the windows, preventing him from seeing anything but shadows structures and smoke. Then he heard an artillery blasting from afar and ran for the nearest cover behind the abandoned pile of luggage.

The Core was here. Perhaps this was the next stage of their false flag operation. Just as he worried, they had remained in this town for too long. Either way, he needed to get out of here soon, or be captured. He did not want to find out what the Core would do to the defectors.

He was too exposed and alone. He needed to find Rourke and the others or find safety by himself.

The latter choice was quickly ruled out because it meant leaving this town without Rourke. He might have huffed out in anger from being misunderstood, but he wasn't going to abandon him either. A small part of him had hoped Rourke would come after him so they could have a talk without being overheard, but that would be pointless to focus on when there were much bigger things to worry about.

The decision was made for him then.

There were few options where they could have gone, now that the safe haven of Ivan's home was compromised. There was the bar at the entrance of the town, serving as a makeshift headquarter of the last resort resistance; if a few townsfolk willing to fight with whatever they have can be called that. The problem with this one was that it was located at the entrance. Judging by the thick smoke coming from the west, this location was likely to have fallen with the first wave.

The second option was Leonid's home. It was a personal residence so it was less likely to be discovered immediately like the bar, and it was at the south end of the town so it would take the infiltrators a lot longer to get there. He remembered Leonid mentioning that he had a short cut behind his house that connected to the residential area without having to use the main streets. This would be the best place for Ivan to entrust the civilians, but he didn’t think Rourke would sit still and wait for the fight to come to them.

That left him only one option. The church was going to be the center of their defense operation. Whether he was already there or not, Adair had no doubt in his mind that he would find Rourke at the church sooner or later.

Of course, his deduction wasn't perfect by any means. He couldn't rely on the civilians to think strategically during the time of a war, but he knew at least one person with them was trained to think like him. He trusted Rourke to follow through with the first mission he had chosen for himself, and Adair hoped his hypothesis was correct.

He pulled out a handgun from the back of his pants and checked the ammo. The weight of the firearm in his hands gave him some reassurance but not much. He was a medic. He was meant to be a part of a team, not left all alone to fend for himself. He also needed to stay alive so he could be of service to his unit. His duty now was to find and join Rourke. He took a deep breath and braced himself for the task at hand.

Scanning the streets, he saw a few people that looked confused running eastbound - attempting to leave the town on foot. Knowing the Core, all exits out of the town would be secured and barricaded by now. These people could very well be running into their doom. Adair didn't try to stop them though. He felt a pull in his chest as he thought that Rourke would have, but he wasn’t Rourke. He needed to do what he must to stay alive, so he could play his part.

He took off westbound, avoiding the main street and moving from cover to cover. He could hear the explosions going off much closer than before. That probably was the sound of the bridges leading out of the town being destroyed, or the ferry harbor. Either way, there was no place to run now. He had to fight if he wanted to survive.

After turning a particularly dark corner, he saw the familiar shade of Polish uniform moving on the far side of the road. He ducked back where he came from and pressed his back against the wall. He checked his rear. No one was behind him, but that could change at any time. The only way forward was guarded by a soldier. He only saw one but there was no guarantee that there wouldn’t be a backup. He carefully poked his head back out to scan for signs of reinforcement.

He waited awhile, trying to decipher the soldier's pattern. They were watching the main street with their back turned towards him. Five minutes later, just as Adair had decided that no one was coming and was about to make a move, a soldier on a patrol came by. He swallowed his bouncing heart, watching their exchange. He couldn’t hear what was being said, but from the body languages he could easily decipher that the soldier stationed on the corner gave a report and the patrol was satisfied with it.

Then he waited again to see if he could establish a pattern. The gun was held tightly in both of his hands, his arms starting to lock up. His defensive stance was tense and jittery. After what felt like an eternity, the patrol came back, ten minutes on the dot. When he saw the patrol leave his lines of sight, he counted to sixty. Then he made his move.

He turned the corner again, quickly and quietly traversed the dark alley and shot the soldier at the back of their head. A shell exploded nearby and his gunshot was masked. The soldier immediately crumbled to the floor without making a sound. He looked around the street quickly to find no one had witnessed his deed. He dragged the soldier who was his comrade only a few days ago, and hid her body behind a dumpster. He couldn’t do anything about the blood stain, but this would buy him a few more seconds when every second counted. He took off westbound again, wiping the spots of blood off the cheek with the back of his hand, hoping he didn't have to do that again.

It had gotten so much darker now. It made it easier for him to hide in the shadows cast by the abandoned buildings, but he also knew he was travelling closer to the enemy line. The lights were out on the main roads, power lines cut to give the army an advantage over the civilians. He didn't know where the enemies might be watching from. He was trained for these eventualities from the Core, but no amount of training prepares him for the real event. He had no back up, and no support. As a medic he was never meant to function on an one man operation. Right now, everything depends on him keeping his wits and moving on. He already took out one guard on the street. He had to keep moving if he didn't want to be found.

Leaning against a brick wall behind a dump and collecting his breath, he tried to calm his racing mind. He had to get to the church. Then a dreadfully probable thought came to him. What if the church had already fallen into the hands of the Core? He had seen a guard east of church. They wouldn’t have put a patrol that far out unless they already secured the town center. Either Rourke had gotten there and failed, or didn’t get a chance to go there due to the enemy already pressing them too far east. Petrified at the idea of his calculation being wrong, he lost his resolve and breath at the same time. Before he could think on it further, he heard a commotion from the direction he came from. He had to move and find better cover. There was no other choice. If the church was taken, then he would have to find an empty house and hole up in it. That would only prolong the inevitable, so he tried not to think about that particular option.

He wiped his brow with the back of his hand and felt the dried blood flake across his skin. He ignored the significance of that texture and pushed it out of his mind. Now was not the time to dwell on feelings.

He braced himself and moved toward the next aisle, and the next, until he could see the bell tower of the church right over his head. However, there was no way for him to confirm whether the church was taken or not, until he looked inside. Since all the windows at the street level were barred, the only way he could do that was by opening the main door. Should he be wrong about who has the church, his chance of survival following the confirmation was very slim. He was starting to feel hopeless. His hands shook from the prolonged period of stress and concentration. He was probably dehydrated too. He put the gun in the waist band to pull out a water bottle from his medical bag.

As he was about to take a sip, he heard several gunshots from nearby. He jumped and nearly dropped the bottle. He caught it with both hands and hurriedly shoved it inside the bag. He checked the chamber of the gun and put himself back into high alert. He noticed the movement in the courtyard in front of the church and some shadow moving to the right. He kept himself hidden behind obstructions along the way to investigate what's going on.

There were two conflicting forces at a standoff. He couldn’t tell the color of the uniforms due to the lack of light. There was one already on the ground, one clutching their shoulder and the last barely standing. The other side was three as well and all remained standing. They were the cause of the shots he heard. Adair could hear the sound of the blood coursing through his head. The wounded three would surely die if he didn’t intervene. There were two armed from what he could see, but there could be more just around the corner. All he had was a single pistol with limited ammo. He was trained to make an accurate shot, but he wasn't sure how he would fare in the situation where he wasn't using the element of surprise to his advantage.

His objective was to survive and rejoin his group, not to die while helping strangers. His eyes were searching for a possible alternate route of escape when the flash of red hair crossed his mind’s eyes. He wondered what Rourke would say if he found out how Adair made his way down here when they finally met up again; if they met up again. He shook his head at the distractions. It didn’t matter what Rourke thought, he told himself, though he knew that it mattered to him what Rourke thought of him, as soon as the notion occurred to him. 

He wouldn't be able to look into those saddened eyes, knowing the choices he made to survive. He could feel indignant about it. He might feel the need to push back and fight, but in the end, Adair knew Rourke was right and that he should do the right thing.

Still swearing under his breath about the irrational sniper talking to him inside his own head, he fixed the grip on his pistol and readied himself to jump out behind them. If he was quick enough during his approach and didn’t miss the first shot, he might be able to take them out before either noticed. He took a deep breath and let it out, then dashed out of his cover.

A loud shot that wasn't from his gun startled the poor medic into stupor. He patted himself down in a frenzy but there was no visible wound on him. He huffed and looked around, trying to figure out where the shot came from, and then--

"Adair!" One of the three figures standing came running towards him and it took all of his will power not to shoot out of surprise. He quickly lowered his gun, when he recognized Lynn’s voice. He looked at the fallen bodies on the ground. They had Polish uniforms on. He tried desperately to still his hands from shaking with no avail. He put his gun away, before he accidentally pulled the trigger.

"What are you doing here? Rourke told me you left the town ahead of us. We were hoping you made it out before the soldiers started assaulting the town... Adair? Are you alright?" He couldn't register what Lynn was saying to him. His mind was stuck on the part where Rourke told them that he had already left.

He didn’t even try to find him. Rourke thought he had gotten out and wasn't even worried about how he might be faring. A small laughter escaped from his mouth. Here he was, ready to risk his life for the ideal Rourke held himself to. It seemed awfully unfair in its one sidedness. Rourke was always imposing his ideas on him, and he was the sucker who kept allowing himself to be dragged along.

He walked past Lynn, past Ivan who looked concerned but didn't stop him, and stood in front of Rourke, who looked at him with an odd smile. "Adair, you came back."

He wasn’t sure what was that supposed to mean. Maybe Rourke did not expect to ever see him again. Perhaps Rourke truly believed that Adair waked out in a huff in anger and would leave the only person who understands him behind. Did Rourke even know him?

The answer was simple.

No, he didn't. They met only a few days ago and they hardly knew each other. The circumstances they were thrown into helped them grow companionship fast, but under any other situations they weren't the kind of people who would cross paths. Adair made fists on either side of his body.

"What are you doing here?" He asked the person who he once thought was his brother.

"We are heading to the church to set up. I’m doing whatever I can to--"

Adair threw his fist in Rourke's face, putting all his weight behind it. The sniper stumbled, but did not fall. He could hear Lynn and Ivan yelping from where they were tending to the wounded soldiers, but they were too busy to intervene.

"What are you doing here?" Adair asked again. Rourke looked confused, and now irritated.

"I'm defending this town whether you like it or not, Adair. If you don't like it, you could have left. I thought you had already left! I thought you would have reached safety--"

"So you didn't even bother looking for me!" He yelled, feeling his own anger bubble up.

"You would leave the only person who tried to stand by you from the beginning, just like that, for whatever warped ideal you want to fulfill out of your pitiful sense of guilt. Is appeasing your peace of mind more important than the camaraderie we built along the way? Do I mean anything to you? Is this who you are? You would drop your friends and family at the beck and call of serving the greater good for the strangers you barely know? I--

\--I was trying to come back to you!” It hurt his pride to say it, but it spilled out before he could stop himself. With that, all the bottled up misery he held back with rationale broke through with his last line of defense. His voice cracked with heated wetness. Rourke’s hand was on his cheek that was swelling up and his jaw agape. He looked more in shock at Adair’s words than in pain. Forgetting the circumstances around them, Adair’s world blurred around the edges and narrowed down to the stunned sniper in front of him. He started pointing his shaky finger at him.

“Do you know what it feels like to leave behind everything you have ever worked for at the drop of a hat, because this one crazy guy said he couldn’t follow through with the orders? Do you know what it feels like to see the faces of people I worked with, cared for and grew up with, suddenly pointing their guns at me and calling me a traitor? Do you-” Adair bit his lips and swallowed to push down the pressure that was building in his throat. He let out a shuddering breath with deep exasperation then continued.

“Do you know what it feels like to be me, venting my frustration at you, when I know deep down that you were right to make those calls, and I know we made right decisions every step of the way, and yet we are left to fend for ourselves being chased by the people we used to call family--”

There was a rush of movement and Adair winced, expecting to be punched likewise. Instead, he found himself pressed into a soft shirt, and a warm chest beyond. He was being embraced and he didn’t know what to do with himself. Then came Rourke’s voice from somewhere above.

“I do, Adair.” It carried both understanding and compassion. Adair’s anguish spilled over the edge at the warmth. It poured, dripped and tumbled along the cracked and scarred surface of his soul. He clutched the back of Rourke's shirt tight, and willed himself not to cry, but his efforts were futile. He could feel the hot tears soaking through the shirt, but Rourke didn’t push him away.

All the tension of being alone on the road was leaving him, along with his anger and frustration. His legs gave out and slumped against the body in front of him. He heard the murmur of voices and sensed the movement of being ushered away at the periphery of his consciousness, but none of them registered in his mind. He trusted the only thing he could feel right now, and that was Rourke’s arms around him.

============

Rourke’s arm wrapped around his back and propelled him forward. He nearly tumbled from the force of it, but he managed to keep the balance and kept running. The forest floor was uneven with wild underbrush. Low hanging limbs slapped his face while the upturned roots tugged at his ankles. Between the racing mind and racing heart, he thought the whole world was conspiring against him, except the hand on his back giving him a little push every now and then. That contact told him not to give up, that there was someone with him and that he wasn’t alone in this crazy turn of events.

The windy path opened wider where it met a stone bridge. He was glad for the small mercy of running on the surface that wasn’t trying to trip and kill him, which was extremely short lived. He came to a screeching halt when he saw the soldiers barricading the other side of the bridge with their guns raised. Rourke came crashing into him, almost toppling them both before he saw the enemies on the other side. He whipped around to check their six. He knew Rourke had done the same, and saw what he saw. Their pursuers had caught up, trapping them on the bridge.

Two groups of soldiers were advancing. Shots were fired. Adair barely noticed the sound of rushing water below the bridge. He looked around for his friend. He wasn’t behind him.

The thought of Rourke shot or captured gave him a heart attack in the short time it took to bring that red hair within his line of sight again. He was standing right by the rail of the bridge, assessing the waters below.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Ill premonition dawned on him. He knew what Rourke was going to do.

“Trust me Adair. We gotta jump!” Rourke's foot was already on the ledge, ready to make the precarious jump.

“Are you crazy? A bullet to the head hurt less than drowning!” Adair retaliated. If he was to die, he would much rather take the option that shortened his suffering.

The soldiers were much closer now. It was evident that it was impossible for them to run away from the Core. They were everywhere. Even if they jumped off this bridge and miraculously survived the fall, they would be found and executed as an example against deserters.

Just as he started to despair, he looked at Rourke. He was an uncertain wreck from an emotional trauma only a few hours ago. Now, he stood on the precipice with his brows furled with worry, his face pale with anxiety, but his eyes shone with conviction. That look alone calmed Adair like he was standing in the eye of a hurricane. Being marked as a traitor among the people he believed to be family didn’t scare him as much as losing the sight of that exertion of one’s will over the circumstances. They both came from the same background, same knowledge, and same heritage; yet Adair could not fathom how Rourke could possibly know something he didn’t know and do it with such strength.

Rourke’s hand was extended, palm open. His eyes were blindingly bright against the blue of the boundless world, wavering. He was just as afraid. He was just as desperate. Yet, he promised something no amount of rationale could explain.

Hope.

Adair would never know how Rourke could make such a promise. If he was to take that outstretched hand, then he might be able to find out. Before he could do so, a bullet wheezed by between them and Rourke tipped beyond the bridge. The hand disappeared over the edge of cold stones and he saw a glimpse of red falling like a shooting star. He followed after it like a delirious man chasing after an impossible dream and jumped over the ledge.

============

When he came to, he found himself inside the church. He was sitting on one of the old mattresses donated for the charity, with his back leaned against a wall. There was an old but soft blanket across his lap, and his hand underneath was holding tightly onto something. When he lifted it to his eye level, he saw a hand attached to an arm, which was attached to a shoulder, neck and face beyond--

"Hey." Rourke said with a gentle smile that was barely visible in the dim light they had in the church. "How are you feeling?" Adair rubbed his face out of embarrassment, trying to erase the dried tear tracks. Then he noticed the sleep engraved pattern on his cheek, which felt oddly like that of Rourke's jacket.

"I'm fine! I'm doing much better, thanks." He let go to Rourke's hand and folded his legs in. He had made a fool of himself in front of everybody, and he really didn't know how to recover from this. He hid his face on his knees, hoping everyone would suddenly have amnesia and forget about him having a complete breakdown in the middle of a battlefield. He turned his head a little to see Rourke still looking at him with that oddly soft look on his face. Obviously his wish wasn’t granted.

“I’m glad you finally told me, Adair.” He leaned his back against the wall as well and looked up at the stained glass window depicting some kind of a saint. “I knew you were holding back a lot of things. Now I know exactly what I should say sorry for, so thanks.”

“I didn’t say those things just to get an apology from you.” He cleared his throat a few times. It sounded awful after the earlier breakdown.

“You were right though. You wouldn’t be in this situation if it wasn't for me. Even if you understand why I did what I had done, that doesn’t excuse me for imposing this situation on you without giving you a choice.” He grew quiet for a moment.

“Having a choice… is what started all this for me, after all.” 

A Choice; a word that was dangled above them like a carrot but never allowed to reach it; they were given an illusion of it through their education but always guided to choose the correct answers all the time. They never had a choice in the Core. He understood Rourke. He was the only person who could.

“You see, Adair, I thought you hated me.” Adair lifted his eyes from where he fixated on a thread that was coming undone on the blanket, and looked at Rourke like he was crazy. The empathetic boy let out a small huff of laugh.

“What was I supposed to think? You were reluctant with the things I was doing at best, downright disagreeable with the other things. You had that frown of disapproval on your brow, and you ran out on me when I gave you a way out.” He shrugged.

“I must admit that sounded quite condemning, when you say it like that.” Adair scratched the bridge of his nose, tilling his head low.

“I thought I’d never see you again, and I drove you to it.” He cast his eyes down towards his hands, as if contemplating the past decisions. In a moment he glanced over and smiled, if the sparse candle lights could be trusted. “Then there you are, running back with your gun blazing, just to find me. Honestly, I’m touched.”

Adair was looking at everything but Rourke. His cheeks were hot. Frankly, he didn’t expect Rourke to be so understanding of his outburst. If he was on the receiving end, he wouldn't have.

“I don’t hate you, Rourke.” He told his knees. “We might have started off on the wrong foot and I think you are the craziest, impulsive and soft-hearted pushover-- but I don’t hate you.”

“Wow, gee. Thanks, Adair. You are not bad yourself for an obnoxious prick with a rule book shoved up your ass. I don’t hate you either.” They looked at each other after making such a brutally honest comment about what they thought of the other, and started laughing. It was the kind of laugh he could have with his best friend and closest confidante, that lifted a weight off his heart. Adair laughed until there was a drop of tear in his eyes again. He wiped it away when he calmed enough to be able to speak without laughing.

His gratitude stretched so far in so many ways that one single word couldn't possibly convey everything he meant. He thanked him for taking him away from the prison, though it was unknown to himself at the time; for opening his eyes against the lies and injustice he grew to ignore; for doing exactly what he said he would, so Adair could find him again. He wondered if any of those notions would reach him by simply saying, “Thanks, Rourke."

He nodded easily and returned the sentiment. “Thank you too, Adair." Then he added, "For not giving up on me.”

His heart thudded again in his eardrums.

"Rourke, we are almost-- Oh hey, Adair. You are awake! Are you feeling any better?" Lynn walked up to them with a small lamp in her hand, bringing light into their dark alcove. Adair pulled himself away from the comfortable blanket and stood up. He heard the sound of Rourke picking himself up too.

"Yeah, I'm great. It's good to get all that out. Hahaha!" He was completely overdoing it, but he would rather not have her ask anymore questions about it. "So what's our situation?"

"We managed to take the church and the square, set up barricades against north, west and east entrances. According to the scout, they are approaching from the town entrance and ferry dock. Leonid is at the west barricade with most of the people. There are some stationed at the north, but that's where you can provide them with some cover with your sniper rifle, Rourke. I will guard the church entrance with Ivan so they can't get to you. Adair, you can join us if you are well enough to move." She gave them the most updated information on troop location and their strategy. It was sound. He wondered if it was Leonid who came up with all these plans. Perhaps he would have a chance to speak to the old man again if all went well.

"Yeah, sure. Just give me a moment." He reached for his medical bag by the mattress and started taking a quick inventory of things. That was when he noticed that Rourke wasn't acknowledging the plan of action. Or moving. Or breathing.

"Lynn, I'll be right there. You go ahead." He sent her away so she could get Ivan and the others ready. His attention returned to Rourke. Even in the dim light, he could see that his friend had turned pale.

“So I'm going back up there...”

Adair could almost hear the dark thoughts ebbing from his mind. He ran from The Core for having killed innocent civilians. Now he would have to kill those who he used to call his brothers and sisters to defend the strangers’ hometown. This guy couldn’t seem to give himself a break.

“Rourke.” 

He avoided eye contact from the medic's call. Adair ignored his resistance, grabbed his chin.

“Hey, look at me.”

Rourke reluctantly looked at him, his warm smile and reassuring confidence gone from him in an instant. Adair decided he hated this look on Rourke.

"Why are you doing this to yourself?" He asked in a quiet voice.

"...You know why, Adair. I set things in motion... I have to make it right..." He frowned a little at having to have the same conversation so many times.

“I know, Rourke, I know. I’m not trying to hold you back from doing what you think is right. Just…” Adair sighed. He would rather have this talk in private. He could see Lynn and Ivan's eyes watching them closely from the gates.

“Let me walk with you to your position. Come on.”

He slung his bag over his shoulders, and grabbed a guitar case nearby that he knew was holding the sniper's weapon. He made his way to the staircase located next to the podium, and climbed a few steps onto the spiraling stone slabs. When he looked back, Rourke was standing at the foot of the stairs, looking down at his feet with his hands clenched at his side.

Without a word, Adair opened his hand and reached out to him. Rourke finally looked up at him with his eyes full of confusion and misery. He pulled his right hand up, but was hesitant to reach out at first. Adair waited patiently. From the bridge Rourke did not have time to wait for him, but he knew he would have if it were not for the soldiers chasing them. The least he could do was to return the same favor.

After a blink of an eon, Rourke took his hand. Adair linked their fingers tightly and pulled him up the stairs to the sniper’s position at the top of the tower. His friend seemed to have retreated into himself. He refused to let go of Adair's hand when they stood by the boarded window, let alone look at the guitar case that was placed by his feet. Adair pulled their joined hands down until they were both sitting.

It was a medic's job to take care of his teammate's mental state to make sure they can function under pressure; but that wasn't why Adair was doing this now. He cupped Rourke's hand with both of his and looked at the one person who picked him up when he was downtrodden. It was his turn.

“Rourke, when I jumped off the bridge with you, I trusted that you were going to put me on the better path than the Core ever did. I was right to give you that trust. Look where we are now. I’m trusting you now to stay on that path with me." Adair put words to the emotions he thought he would never have the chance to speak about. They came out one after the other, competing to be said first, wanting to show Rourke exactly how he felt and hoping they were enough to reach his friend in his darkest depth. The withdrawn man raised his head, but self doubt was dripping from his expression.

"...I can't even stop myself from resorting to violence, from picking up this gun again..." Rourke’s anguish was real and palpable. All the talk in the world wasn’t enough, if one cannot follow through with their actions. He was seeing the limit of what he was capable of doing against what he really wanted to do with his life for the first time. There was a wall in his vision, and Adair saw it too. He diverted Rourke's attention away from the gun and the window behind him, by grabbing both of his cheeks so he couldn’t look away.

"Hey, hey. Stop that. You brought me here, so don’t you dare leave me again. I'm staying with you." It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. A bit of light returned to Rourke's eyes, but his expression was still cold as stone.

"Adair, believe me when I say I appreciate you for being here with me through it all. But how am I going to do this? Now I have to kill the ones I grew up with, because I can't agree with the value of the Core. I just don't want to see another innocent person killed. I can't take that anymore. Not ever again, I can't, I can't--"

"You won't have to!" Adair took hold of Rourke's shoulders, to shake him out of his spiraling thoughts. Those eyes were on him again, instead of a pit of wretched memories and dreadful possibilities. He continued quickly while he had the attention.

"Take the non lethal shots, Rourke. I’ll be out there and patch them up. You won’t kill anybody today." When the truth of what Adair had said finally broke through the wall that blocked Rourke's sight, his face lit up. Then it fell, knowing what it meant for Adair.

"Adair... but you..."

"No complaints. I can take care of myself. I’ll do my part to keep you safe. You have to do your part to stay alive. Never, ever give up.”

One moment Adair wasn’t sure if any of his speeches were getting through, and the next moment he found himself being pulled into a bear hug around his middle. Rourke’s grip was hard and unrelenting. Adair was held awkwardly, not knowing what to do with his arms. Then he remembered what Rourke did for him. He wrapped his arms around his shoulders and brought his head closer to the red hair, close enough to kiss it. If Rourke cried, he didn’t know. Rourke didn’t bawl like he did, nor did he feel wetness on his shirt. 

He felt their shared warmth though. He could feel their heartbeat against each other’s chest. They were alive, and they were going to survive this.

“I got your back.” He whispered into the soft red locks and the grip on his back tightened. He could feel the nod against the binds they created for themselves, and relaxed a little. Come what may, they were going to be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of my longest works yet, and also the first one I started working on when I got into LGD exactly 2 months ago to date. I wanted to give Adair's mindset a justice, and I hope this fic gave him a voice that you couldn't hear from the game. This story is not beta'd. I felt it had to be released or I would never let it go. A big thank you to everyone from LGD Discord for your on going support for my writing. Love you all!


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